Name: Harri Van Helle
Age: 23
Race: Human
Appearance: 6'2" tall and 240 lbs of weight. Green eyes, dark brown hair and 2 inches long, thick beard.
Harris physique might not look out of the ordinary at first glance, but there are a number of scars across his body, minor ones as well as larger ones. They are barely noticeable under the tribalic tattoos he got from a shaman in the northern mountains. His skin is thick from labour and hard training, which more often than not, comes with the territory. His muscles are big and strong looking, although not as well toned as you'd first think.
Equipment: A longsword and a hand axe as primary weapons. Also carries around 2 daggers for emergencies. A bag of rations with dried meat, dried cheese and bread.
He has covered his left wrist under the remains of his fathers mercenary groups flag.
Description: Harri is like many others in this day and age, crazy. But you kind of have to be to endure the battlefields these days. Harri is reckless to say the least and a wild card to fight with. Working mostly on his own for the past 5 years has made him so. He often rushes off to battle, relying on his senses and instincts. He enjoys to fight, it's his greatest passion, second only to the night after at the closest tavern. Fighting is the only purpose he has ever had and he happens to be great at it.
Skills: Harri is a great fighter with training beyond others of his age. Wielding the unusual combo of a Longsword and a hand axe makes his fighting style seem like random swings and lucky blocks/dodges. This of course is not the case as he was trained in it from a young age exclusively, to throw off opponents he may face on the battlefield.
Moving around from place to place all of his life has thought him a good navigational sense and a large variety of survival skills. When moving around in a large group of mercenaries there tend to be injuries and before he was able to join the others in battle, he was working in the infirmary. Giving him a solid, but basic understanding of medicine, varying from stiching up a wound to gathering herbs for fighting off various diseases.
Background:Harri was born into the life of a sellsword. His father lead a great group of mercenaries across the land, they were often mistaken for an army. They'd move as a group from settlement to settlement and raise their camps outside. Villagers, merchants, whoever would see them would think of an army on the move, but as the years went on they learned to recognize the emblem of the Hawk, as the Mercenary group.
The life was always dangerous and mostly cruel for a small child to travel with battle hardened men, most of them criminals to begin with. His fathers protective shadow kept him relatively safe from the men and women in the group, but other wordly creatures were always a danger in it's own category. Many times during the years Harri had close calls and was once even abducted by a raiding orc group.
But with a dangerous and harsh upbringing also came great skills. His father was tough on him about his swordsmanship and had his men teach him every day. He would train everyday, as he knew of no other kind of life. For all of his life Harri would see settlements, even the greatest cities in Fallion, but never know of the life inside them.
Five years ago his world shattered in one night. When they came. They destroyed everything, killed everyone in the camp. When Harri would return from his assignment, in the nearby settlement the group had left just two days ago, there would only be ashes to find. Since then Harri has walked these lands on his own, carrying the once proud emblem of the group as a promise to avenge and rebuild.
